


May the (Paintball) Force be with You

by Fandom_Trash224, interstellartreasure, JedimasterMegan, writehandman



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe- Paintball, Multi, just like clone wars there is no chronological order!, no angst just paintball, nothing sad happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-16 22:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Trash224/pseuds/Fandom_Trash224, https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellartreasure/pseuds/interstellartreasure, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JedimasterMegan/pseuds/JedimasterMegan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writehandman/pseuds/writehandman
Summary: The Republic and The Separatists, two paintball teams, separated by an arbitrary county line, and their LARPing antics.





	1. Attack of the Paintball

* * *

Anakin looked on in shock and horror, as the Separatists, their long time enemy, welcomed a new teammate onto the field. _ Dooku. _

“** _TRAITOR!_ **” He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. The group around him rolled to a halt, and turned to see what he was looking at.

Dooku cut an imposing figure, tall and refined, creases of old age crinkling along his eyes and forehead, while the lines of his mouth were hidden by his neatly trimmed white beard. The all-black outfit (was he wearing a cape? Anakin wanted a cape!) made him look all that more imposing, as the elderly man turned and leveled him with a glare.

And then he recognized him, and his whole face changed, lighting up with a cheerful smile. “Oh! Hello Anakin, yes, sorry. I moved to a more affordable place, and it was easier to meet with the Seps.”

“This sucks! You were so good at tactical shooting!” he called. “Now we gotta find a new sharp shooter!”

“Oh dear, I'm quite sorry. But when Ventress moved out, the house just felt too big! Did you know that she's been doing great in college? She joined a martial arts group!” Dooku said, a small smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Anakin just couldn't stay mad at him. “Now the teams are uneven, we can't play.”

“Hold on dude. Give me a second.” Ahsoka said, holding up a finger, rapidly texting somebody. “Hey Mace, you remember Ponds? That guy who you met at the shooting range?”

Mace Windu looked up from where he'd been loading paint canisters. “Yes? What about him?”

“Well I followed his Instagram, and then I followed some of his cousins and brothers, and one of his brothers, Rex, used to play paintball in college. I just messaged him to see if- oh hey!- Rex is on his way.”

Anakin blinked at her. “That was fast.”

“That's the internet, Skyguy.” She winked and gave him finger guns. “Information superhighway. The interweb. World wide network.”

“Please never speak again or I won't let you come help at the shop for volunteer hours.” Anakin groaned.

“I've never said a word in my life!” Ahsoka was quick to insist, before miming zipping her lips shit and throwing away the key.

“Do we have enough players?” Obi-wan called out, jogging over to them. “Mr. Palpatine offered to ask someone to sit out, but that just seemed rude.”

“Can you believe Dooku? He just left, and didn't tell anyone!” Anakin fumed.

The oldest, and shortest, man Anakin had ever met turned and smacked him in the knees with his paintball rifle. “Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to the dark side. The dark side leads to playing on the Separatists. Fall for this, you must not.”

“Yoda. Yoda, we know you like doing character voices, but we're not playing right now.” Anakin sighed, rubbing his leg and wincing a bit at the bruise that was bound to form.

“Part of improv everywhere, I was. Improv here, I will.” Yoda said, sticking his nose up. “Going to help Mace, I am.”

“Hey, guys, are we going to start yet? Do you have your alternate?” One of the Seps yelled.

“He's almost here, Rodger!”

“Rodger that!” Rodger called back, and one of the other Rodgers burst out laughing.

The seppies had eight Rodgers, all nicknamed, just so there wouldn't be any unneeded confusion. There was Rodger, Rodger Prime, Tinny, Buckethead, Clanker, Bolt-head, Rust bucket, and, of course, Aluminum Bill. (Nobody understood that last one, but the Rodgers insisted it was hilarious.)

Ahsoka stood up from where she had been sitting on a crate. “He texted me, he's here. I'm gonna go let him in.”

“Okay, Snips, be safe, don't do anything I wouldn't do!” Anakin called after her.

Obi-wan knocked into him in his haste to amend that. “Actually, bad idea, don't do anything _ I _wouldn't do!”

“Hey- shut up!” Anakin groaned. “I can't believe you convinced me to play a Jedi.”

“Suck it up, 'Padawan’," he sniffed. “It was your choice. You could've been a senator like your wife.”

“That's because she _ is _ a senator and didn't understand when I explained the concept!” he protested, dogging the ginger man's step.

“Yes, well. She's very proficient with a paint rifle.”

“It's a blaster!”

“Ugh. Blaster. What an uncivilized word.”

“Oh shut up, you Shakespeare major.”

Before Obi-wan could respond, the door opened and Ahsoka stepped forward, followed by a very concerned looking blonde man, holding his own (custom!) paintball gun and wearing what looked like white armor with blue paint on it.

“Hey everyone! We've got our man! Rex, welcome to the Republic. What's your backstory?” Ahsoka announced him to the crowd, and suddenly the room hushed, eager to learn what character would be playing alongside them.

“Oh- shit! I thought you were joking!” Rex shot Ahsoka a look of sheer panic. “Um. Fuck.”

“C'mon buddy, you can do it, I believe in you. You were in an improv group.”

Yoda perked up. “Yes, tell us about yourself you should, soldier.”

Rex seemed to perk up at the word, and stood at sharp attention, and snapped off a salute. “Yes sir, General! My name is… Captain Rex, of the, uh, 501st battalion, sir. We're clone troopers, created to serve the republic.”

“Cool!” someone on the Separatist side called out.

“Oh nice, that goes with our whole robot thing!” Rodger Prime said.

“Droids, we're droids!” Buckethead smacked the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“That sounds a lot like slavery dude.” Anakin pointed out. “Created for the Republic?”

“Oh, let me live, I made it up on the spot.” Rex scowled at him.

“Wait, if Yoda's a Jedi, and a general, am I a general?” Anakin asked excitedly.

“Yeah, fuck it. Why not?” Ahsoka shrugged. “I wanna be a commander.”

“Okay, Jedi are generals, let's start already! Where's Palpatine?”

The doors opened with a hiss, and a figure wearing a black robe with a hood drawn over his face trudged into the room from a midpoint. The figure stood up and took his hood off, revealing the smiling face of Sheev Palpatine. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Go for Republic!” Mace called out, signaling for everyone to get into position.

“Separatists are ready as well!” Nate, or Nute as he called his character, called out.

Palpatine's face contorted into a terrifying, dark grimace, as he called out in what he called his 'evil voice’ “_ Begin _.” and stepped back into his office.

\-----

“Ow shit! Yan, you have my hand!” Anakin yelped.

Dooku, panicked and glanced at the prothstetic in his hand. “Well young Skywalker, you should have waited for your master!” He then leaned down and whispered. “I am so sorry, Anakin.”

“Curse you Count Dooku!” Anakin shook his (non-missing) hand at him and then sat down, paint covering his chest plate.

“Well, let's hope Kenobi does better.” Dooku winked at him.

\-----

“Holy shit Rex, you're a better shot than Anakin!” Ahsoka yelled, dodging a bullet from Tinny.

“Well, from what you've said, that's not too hard!” Rex yelled back, and shot Rodger straight on the helmet.

Rodger yelped, and fell back.

“Take that, robot!”

“We're droids!” Buckethead called, before Rex shot him in the chest.

\-----

When it was all said and done, it was for the most part, a draw.

“You guys ready for next week?” Anakin asked, bouncily, glancing around.

Kit, Mace, Yoda, Plo, and Quinlan all winced a bit and glanced at each other furtively.

“Oh no. What?” Anakin asked, his face falling.

“We have a conference, Anakin.” Plo told him. “We can't make the next game.”

“Shit! How are we going to have enough players?” Ahsoka swore, getting a sharp look from Plo for her coarse language.

Rex sighed. “Well. I wasn't _ entirely _ riffing on the clone thing. Let me call up some of my brothers and cousins.”

Anakin grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Rex. You're the only person I respect here.”

The blonde stared right back at him. “I know.”


	2. Lair of The Asthmatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kit brought his nephew to paintball. Things happened, so he and Qymaen end up having a deadly showdown.

“You may have been a great warrior once, but now you’re just a pawn in Dooku’s game!”

“I wield great power, Jedi fool!”

Kit had to hand it to Qymaen, his character was  _ very _ fun to interact with, even if it was because of him that Kit would have to explain to Nahdar’s mother why the poor kid had a nasty bruise forming on his stomach. He knew Qymaen would apologize profusely once the game was over, but still, he couldn’t count on the fact that Nahdar would come back anytime soon. It was a shame, the kid had really liked playing.

It was likely due to his thinking that Kit hadn’t been paying attention to what they were doing, and he ended up hitting Qymaen’s hand, causing the other man to yelp in pain and pull back. Kit gasped quietly, dropping his own weapon and apologizing profusely. 

“Are you okay? Qymaen I’m so sorry.”

“Ow, yeah, I’m oka--” Qymaen gasped in pain when he tried to move his wrist, which in turn caused a small coughing fit, causing several people to turn and watch the two, seeing as Qymaen coughing was more or less always a cause for concern.

Within seconds, Palpatine’s voice rang out, clear and concerned across the playing field:

“Time out! Injury on the field!”

All play stopped, and both Dooku and Palpatine made their way over, concerned because Qymaen hadn’t given them the “I’m okay, just give me a moment” signal yet.

“Oh dear, I don’t think you should keep playing today, Qymaen,” Palpatine said softly as he helped the asthamtic with his inhaler “You should probably get your hand looked at, too.”

“But Kit and I are having an epic battle,” Qymaen said, still sounding somewhat breathless, but nowhere near as bad as he had been “Grievous can’t just run away  _ again _ .”

“Well… You had my back up against the wall, and I’m in a bad spot. I could run away instead! Besides,” Kit cringed slightly “I have to take Nahdar home and explain to his mother how I got my nephew hurt playing a game she specifically asked me to not let him play.”

Qymaen softly sucked air through his teeth. “Ouch, yeah, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Eh,” Kit waved his hand dismissively “It’s alright. Accidents happen, and he was honestly getting a bit too big for his britches, you know?”

“Tell your sister I said hi, Kit!” Palpatine said cheerfully as the young man smiled and ran off. Dooku carefully escorted Qymaen off the field and, once he was safely recovering in Palpatine’s office, the two older men took up their places once more.

“Alright everybody,” Palpatine announced in his normal voice before switching to his  _ evil _ side’s voice “ _ Break _ !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo come check out all of us on tumblr!
> 
> @clonesdeservebetter (me, i wrote this chapter!)  
@lichesneedstitches  
@nb-fives  
@jedimastermegan


End file.
